


The Deer's Cry

by Elillierose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Depression, Gen, Inner Dialogue, Internal Conflict, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose
Summary: After another meeting in the middle of the night, Snape is left alone with his thoughts. Left to ponder why it is he continues his role as a spy.





	The Deer's Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Read by: [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinikka_von_Wolperting/pseuds/Sinikka_von_Wolperting), [istoleyourcheesecake](http://archiveofourown.org/users/istoleyourcheesecake/pseuds/istoleyourcheesecake), [DragonRiderSayomi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonRiderSayomi/pseuds/DragonRiderSayomi), and [MsChievous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous)
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://elillierose.tumblr.com/) for questions and concerns. There is also a picture made for it a lovely friend made for it there. :D
> 
> Yes, this 1k fic had 4 betas. I wanted it to be good though. ;w;
> 
> Ok, so this is my first HP fic, and I wanted to go short and sweet for my first. I do want to do more about Snape. And, when I do, I promise those will be more exciting with more going on. I just wanted to do the man justice for my first attempt. ;w;
> 
> So, please let me know what you thought of this and if anyone would like more HP fics. >-<

 

**Song -** **Arvo Pärt: The Deer's Cry**

* * *

 

_ Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, _

_ Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, _

_ Christ on my right, Christ on my left, _

_ Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, _

_ Christ in me, Christ when I arise, _

_ Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, _

_ Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me, _

_ Christ in the eye that sees me, _

_ Christ in the ear that hears me, _

_ Christ with me _

_ – 0 – _

_ The sacred Lorico or Deer’s Cry was composed by Saint Patrick in the year 433. Knowing of an ambush to kill him and his followers, St. Patrick led his men chanting it as they passed through a forest. They were transformed into a deer and twenty fawns, and thus St. Patrick and his men were saved. _

 

  * __http://absentofi.org/2012/06/arvo-part-the-deers-cry/__



* * *

 

Weary feet dragged across the stone floor, only interrupted by the heavy steps that echoed off the nearly barren walls. As the door slammed behind him, it sent a draft of cool air as it disturbed the ends of his robes. The sound of it was loud enough to startle, but the man never so much as flinched. With the flick of a wand, held tightly within a tense, barely stable hand, a fire flashed to life.  With another flick, “Accio, glass,” and the coolness of it filled his palm. Reluctantly, the wand was replaced, traded off for a bottle of scotch which was plucked from its home on the shelf. 

The words ghosted over pale, barely parted lips. His strides never faltered until the potions master reached his destination. A second of hesitation, chest tightened as he momentarily averted his attention to stare into the flickering flames instead. As air was pushed heavily out his nose, he tore his darkened gaze away before he less than elegantly dropped himself into the nearest chair.

Hands grasping either of their glass prizes in an iron grip, he practically slammed the glass on the table before him and uncapped the bottle. Tilting the bottle over, his eyes never drifted from the liquid as it neared the rim, ripples spread across the surface as it quaked ever so slightly. Then, he paused, staring at his hand as it refused to calm down despite how much he commanded the blasted appendage to do so. With a low growl, he jerked the bottle upright and leaned back. Instead, the man lifted the mouth of the container to his own and the bottle was upturned. Enough so for a generous sip of his desired poison.

“Dammit.”

He swiped his sleeve across his face as the burn trailed all the way down his throat. He didn’t give the first swallow much time to settle in his stomach before chasing it down with a second.

“Dammit.”

The mark still burned ever so slightly, an itching sensation. Like insects, maggots festering under his flesh. His free hand clamped over the spot, clutching it, willing it to just go away, to disappear. But that wouldn’t happen. It would never happen.

“Dammit,” he muttered, fingers loosening, traveling to run through black locks of hair, but unable to stop dark curtains from falling around his face.

‘Why am I doing this...why do I continue to do this?’ He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fingers until a few hairs broke free of their confines. 

“Why?”

He knew exactly why...he didn’t know the reason he continued to ask himself this. It was the same every day. He’d always known ‘why’, though it didn’t make the disgust he felt with himself any easier to swallow. He released a shuddering breath and forced his eyes back open, unable to bear witness to the images that flashed behind his lids any longer, every night. A dry chuckle rasped out as he leaned his head downward and watched as the warm light danced over the floor.

“Why indeed.” His hand dropped away, arm resting on his left knee as he raised his attention back to the fire before him.

‘She and James put their faith in the wrong person. Rather like you, Severus.’ He could never escape those words...he was right, he was always right. Why...why did he trust another when the task would have been better left in his own hands?!

By all rights, he shouldn’t even be in this situation, that was not  _ his _ child, it was not  _ his  _ responsibility. It should have been James’ and...and…

He forcefully tipped the bottle back once more, taking a hefty amount this time, cringing slightly as it left its bitterness behind to linger on his tongue. Choking down a sob, he thrust the bottle on the table to rest next to the glass, causing a few droplets to bounce out and upon his hand. But...they were no longer around, they - both -  were gone, it was something he had to come to terms with sooner or later. It’s been so many years, so many dreadful years of lingering spite. So many years of having to quench that reeking loathing for that villainous snake. Nearly two decades...of putting on that mask before him, to stay quiet and obey.

All for that  _ boy _ .

_ Her _ boy.

His expression softened, and muscles relaxed by a small degree. No, it was for her...all of it, everything, it was for her. Breath caught for a painful moment as his hand instinctively reached out once more, fingers grazing over the glass surface. He paused, stare darting down at his reflection, warped by the curved surface. Exhaling with a shudder, he forced his hand away. Slowly, it trailed nearer his pocket, seeking out the familiarity of his wand.

There was a wave of relief that instantly washed over him, rinsing his mind temporarily of all other thoughts. He held it for a moment, considering, debating. Slowly, he drew it to run his free hand over its grains. 

Images fluttered through his mind, flashes of her. Severus felt his shoulders relax as he remembered the sensation of just having her nearby. It was so very long ago, but it was still all too vivid. Then, fluidly, he swished it, and softly,

“Expecto patronum.”

A string of blue streamed from the end, twisting and shaping into that doe...that beautifully mocking creature. He despised it. No, not for what it represented, but for what it reminded him. He could only watch, captivated by its movements as it bounded and leapt gracefully around him. He closed his eyes as he felt it rush by, whisking his hair and leaving a chilled imprint on his cheek.

He forced his eyes back open, and tore himself away from the fabricated moment. Severus pushed himself to his feet and glided to one of his many shelves, pausing in front of it. From muscle memory alone, he plucked a small vial off the shelf - it’s welcoming purple contents swirled beckoningly, promising him a night of peace. His fingers wrapped around it tightly, eyes barely acknowledging the multiple empty vials that already adorned the shelf.

Another glance back at the spirit, he flicked it open, a practiced motion, and allowed its cool sensation to course through his veins, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar to him.

After he took a deep breath, the raven-haired man grabbed a second potion off the shelf, this one different than the other. Stepping back to his seat, his gaze never left his patronus as he carefully watched its every movement, every step, each bound. Then, in a flash, it leapt, evaporating as it made contact with the fire. And, just like that, it was gone. Blue embers - like tears - dispersed, fluttering for just a few seconds before they, too, faded from the flame’s light.

With an aching heart, he turned the vial over in his hand and slowly looked down to it. A sleeping draught… Just like the first, he popped it open, throwing it back to join the first. Already, he could feel it gripping him.

He just wanted to forget.

He had enough on his mind during the day, there was no need for them to plague his sleep as well.

With only a few seconds left, Severus raised his wand, and with a swift snap of his wrist,

“Aqua eructo.”

  
  


.

 


End file.
